


The Desperate, The Destitute, and The Dead

by Shermanshire



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Reapers, Awkward Garrus Vakarian, Biotic Shepard (Mass Effect), F/M, I hate tags, Kenn is her son, Learning to move on, Loss, Making This Up As I Go, Mordin is Shepard's low-key dad but not in a kinky way, References to Depression, She is healing, Shepard has a prosthetic, like Shepard would literally die for him, maybe smut, probably slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-06 21:09:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19070728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shermanshire/pseuds/Shermanshire
Summary: After a decorated Alliance career and a challenging life, Shepard eventually finds herself adrift until she lands on Omega. Lacking credits and any direction, Shepard finds herself working at Kenn's Salvage in an attempt to get by until her life gets flipped upside down. What should have originally been a routine visit to Mordin's clinic turns into so much more. Now Jane is left wondering, who the hell is Archangel?





	1. Silence

****

Jane Shepard really did hate Omega, along with all the scum living on it. She hated it with a burning passion so deep and long-lived that it had her seeing red at times.

Like now.

“I’ve told you before Harrot, I am not selling you shit!”

“In barely contained annoyance. Jane, be reasonable. With my help your storefront could become semi-successful. I have the contacts you need.”

Jane gave the Elcor a glare so sharp it could cut a Turian’s carapace, but either Harrot was too dense to understand it or he paid it no mind. Harrot, for an Elcor so fucking busy with his own shop, somehow always made the time to march his ass down to Kenn’s salvage and badger her about selling the damn place. He was smart enough not to ask Kenn, last time he did Jane almost broke his nose. But the Elcor was insistent about asking her while trying to appeal to her need for credits.

She was going to sell Kenn’s Salvage over her dead body, not only because it wasn't in her place to sell it, but also because she hated Harold.

From across the counter, Jane whipped out her carnifex and leveled it with Harrot’s temple, her emerald eyes blazing with horrifying fury.

“Harrot, I’ve got three bullets in this fucking thing. Guess how many will be left if you don’t walk the fuck away?”

Any and all arguments Harrot had left with him vanished instantly and within seconds Harrot was practically _running_ away from the counter and back to what Shepard assumed to be his store.

Shepard stood there for a few seconds, flexing her index finger around the gun’s trigger in contempt. She really did hate Omega, not only for what it was but for what it did to her. Jane didn’t always have such a foul temper, but Omega liked to bring out the worst in people.

“Shepard!” Called a young man’s voice from behind her.

Her reflexes move her into a fighting stance, her gun held low but ready to fire. But when Kenn came into vision from the storeroom, she froze and quickly hid her firearm. Kenn didn’t like guns, Jane learned early on in their partnership, they made him uneasy.

“I heard a loud noise? What happened?” Kenn asked, his voice tinged with worry.

Jane relaxed somewhat, her shoulders slumping and a smirk picking at the edge of her lips.

“Oh, nothing. Just had a chat with Harrot, again.” Jane replied, her smirk widening into a smile at the memory of the Elcor running.

Kenn looked at her wide eyes until realization dawned upon him.

“You sent him running _again_?” Kenn asked in disbelief.

“What can I say?” Shepard stated with a shrug before giving Kenn a slight pat on the shoulder. “Perks of being ex-military. I’m one scary SOB.”

Kenn watched her as Jane moved to the small shelving unit beside them, busying herself with whatever salvage had caught her eye. Jane knew the kid was still staring at her, as he often did. She had a certain level of skill most people lacked on Omega and, for those who had it, they often weren’t the best kind of people to be around. Jane, on the other hand, did her best to be sympathetic when able, but Omega usually didn’t want it. Kenn did, but Kenn was a special case. He was as new as her to all of this scum and hate. At least they were in it together.

“I really don’t know what I did to deserve you, Shepard. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be dead,” Kenn stated candidly.

Jane turned to Kenn with a frown. “Don’t say that kind of stuff kid, you’re pretty resourceful for someone so young. You need to have more confidence in yourself.”

Jane didn’t say that kind of stuff off the cuff either, she really did mean it. Kenn was the unassuming but smart type Omega didn’t like. He kept to himself, but was smart enough not to fall for other’s shit. Sure, Harrot might have got him with his prices in the beginning and he had his shit stolen, but that was a one kind of thing, which he learned from quickly.

Kenn’s shoulders slumped before he shook his head. “If only I believed it.”

Jane could read the exhaustion in the kid’s tone, and she felt a pang of sympathy for him. She heard a similar voice like that on Mindoir years ago; Omega was really taking a toll on him.

Getting an idea, Shepard quickly checked her omni-tool and smiled. She stood instantly, placing the salvage she had been scrutinizing over since before Harrot rudely interrupted her on the shelf before turning to Kenn.

She grabbed his shoulders and shook him to attention.

“You know what you need? A drink!” Jane said excitedly, her eyes shining with mischief.

Kenn sputtered, quickly shaking his head.

“Shepard, are you crazy?! With what money?!”

Shepard pointed to her omni-tool and said, “Mine. And before you tell me no, I insist. We bother deserve a break; don’t you think?”

Jane’s reasoning gave him pause as he considered her point. Jane, in her humble opinion, felt she was right. They had been working all week long from 6 to 5 for the past month. They were both feeling pretty burned out and Jane actually had the money. She was saving it for some new armor, since her old stuff was pretty beat up, but she wasn’t going to tell Kenn.

Still hesitant, Kenn looked at Jane skeptically. “Where would we go? Everywhere but Afterlife has garbage rum and you know I don’t like getting drunk.”

Jane huffed in annoyance as she placed her arms back at her sides.

“Alright Debby Downer, smoothies it is.”

Before Kenn could question Jane’s weird human wording, Jane began tugging him along insistently towards the smoothie stand.

Jane hated to admit it, but she didn’t know Omega all that well. She only knew some of the lower wards off hand and some past contacts and merc bars she would stop by when she was looking for work. Now, most of her equipment was too beat up to take on a good paying job and her concerns were to deep rooted with Kenn to leave him for a job. However, she did know of a few decent fast food stands and bars that would make even Aria jealous.

Her and Kenn left Janie’s Topical Smoothie stand in high spirits. It was funny watching Kenn slurp down a smoothie for the first time, his iridescent eyes blinking in shock before he began taking vigorous sips of whatever dextro smoothie her bought. Dextro foods never really translated right so Jane didn’t bother trying to figure out what Kenn asked for. They munched on some dextro-levo fries afterwards and Jane was happy to see Kenn laugh for the first time in what felt like months while he told her stories about his short but exciting life. He had a good laugh; it was one filled with a sense of youth Jane forgot he had sometimes.

After that they left and Kenn was safely escorted back to his apartment.

While walking back to her dusty old shack near the docks, Jane decided they really should do that more often. Kenn deserved better than Omega and, even though she couldn’t give him that, she could at least pay for his smoothies and listen to whatever story about the Flotilla came to mind. It wasn’t much, but Jane liked to think it might be enough.

Eventually Jane made it back to her apartment, frowning at the small space. It was ugly, similar to the rest of Omega, but at least it’s hers. Jane didn’t have a lot after jumping from colony life, to military, back to colony, and eventually into merc life.

Jane sucked in a long breath of stale air before she threw her rucksack off to the side and fell into her mattress with a soft ‘umph.’ It’s hard and Jane’s pretty sure something died in it, but at least she didn’t have to sleep on the floor. Besides, compared to her Alliance bunk, the dusty old think was a luxury she lacked for most of her life.

Kicking off her boots, Jane repositioned herself on the bed, staring off into space while listening to the dock workers curse and fumble with cargo. It’s a constant sound that anyone else would find annoying but Jane felt it was rather comforting. In all her experience, silence often equals death.

Silence was what came before the harrowing screams of her parents being burned alive, silence came before the thresher maw came slithering up out of the ground to attack her unit, silence was what came before her unit’s loved ones burst into tears and screams after she told them of her failure. Silence came before a lot of the tragedies in Jane’s life, and they have haunted her ever since.

Funny how despite everything, the thing that puts her out of commission was a stray bullet to thigh.

She takes a sparing glance down to her leg, wiggling the cybernetic toes in contempt. Bullets and infections don’t mix well, Jane learned. Under normal circumstances, she might have still been parading around the galaxy with Alliance blues on her back, but Jane never took well to the prosthetic. She’s now only good enough to deal with some pathetic mercs on Omega but anything else was a bit much for her.

Jane stared at the limb for a while. It’s been stuck on her for a while now, yet it still remained foreign. She hated it, hated the limitations it opposed on her and everything it stole from her. Jane learned from Mindoir not to fixate on the past, but there were somethings she couldn’t turn a blind eye on.

Frustrated and tired, Jane kicked at the sheets before curling up under the covers. She didn’t bother getting changed, she didn’t have the energy to do it.

Instead, she fell asleep to the sound of machinery and the memory of her unit’s cries for help on Akuze.

It haunted her, but at least her dreams weren’t silent.   

  


	2. Bad Idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally nothing happens. I just didn't feel like making extra long chapter. Thanks.

_Sydney sits in front of her, blue eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. Her eyes look tired, days of sleepless nights apparent in the dark bags lying beneath them. Her lips look chapped, her hair unkept. She looks a right wreck, and Jane can feel her insides twist at what was about to come._

_Blue eyes darting back and forth from Jane, to her hands, and then back to Jane. Lips pursed with a barely contained sob creeping up her throat. Sydney quivers as she whispers, “What happened to Jenkins?”_

_Jane stares at her for a moment, hands curling into fists, her eyes watering. She bites her lip hard, the blood oozing onto her tongue. She chants a soft, insistent, mantra in her mind. ‘You will not cry; you will not cry.’ It’s hard. All Jane can see in her mind is a young man filled with excitement, a world of passion and wonder in eyes that had barely seen the splendors of space and bursting nebulas._

_Jane shudders. ‘You will not cry.’_

_“I’m sorry,” Jane whispers, a sharp intake following her seemingly lackluster reply. “Jenkins is gone.”_

_Sydney seems to go somewhere else in that moment. Her blue eyes grow cold, her lips finally part, and her hands untwine themselves from the ripped-up tissue she had held like a life line. Seconds feel like hours as Jane searched for something to say; waiting for a reaction yet to come._

_Instead, Jane is greeted by the heart wrenching sound of a sob tearing through Sydney’s throat. She covers her eyes as the tears flow freely, her hands quaking so hard Jane worries she’ll hurt herself._

_“Oh, not my Jenkins,” Sydney rasps through her sobs. “Not him,” She chants._

_The words hit Jane like a brick as she stares at Sydney. Distantly, she feels herself reach across the table to gently press against Sydney’s shoulder. It’s an empty touch, one void of any real emotion and instead moved by some distant force Jane can’t name. Sydney takes Jane’s hand and sobs into it, an ugly cry echoing off the porch’s high walls._

_‘How many times had Jenkins and Sydney been out here before? How many happy memories died here today?’_

_They are big thoughts Jane doesn’t want, so she pushes them away. The grief hurts her, scars her in ways that can’t really be named without putting them to justice. She tells herself it’s her fault, to lessen the hurt. Jane isn’t sure why it helps, but if she can blame anyone, she’ll blame herself._

_She’ll blame herself for Jenkins, for Adam, for Tishari, for Addison, for Jocelyn, for Allen. For all the lives she lost, for all the sorrows their loved ones now carry._

_It was the only way._

* * *

 

Jane woke in a cold sweat, her eyes darting across the room erratically. Before her mind could catch up to the present, she was already standing, rushing around her room like clockwork. Old habits die hard as Jane rushed from her weapons’ locker, to her credit chit, to her armor, and back again. Jane did a thorough check like she would if she had still been in the Alliance, a solemn comfort on a lawless world she had planted herself on.

Jane suddenly stopped when a sharp pain traveled up her leg, snapping her back to reality.

She cursed and groaned, falling to the floor with a soft grunt. Stupid leg and stupid prosthetic. Sudden movements weren’t recommended, but that didn’t stop her brain from falling back into her old fast pace regime. It was good, comforting even to do something even vaguely familiar in a place so far from home. It helped her forget the nightmares, sometimes. Other times, they just sat in her mind and cackled at her vain attempts to calm down and forget.

With a lengthy sigh, Jane pulled herself up, staring at the gray walls of her room in contempt. These nightmares were insistent; though Jane had long since grown used to them. Sanitized to the pain that badgered her like steady rainfall against glass. But they still hurt little, especially the ones with Jenkins. He was the youngest on Akuze while still remaining the brightest. So much potential, gone in a blink of an eye.

Jane’s breathing stuttered at the memory; his face still fresh in her mind. It was an old wound that left her with many scars, each one for a crewmate she lost that horrible day. Jane had lost a few crewmates in the past, but Akuze was different. It was inhumane how they left, and she could do nothing. The helplessness made her ach for a gun, to shoot without question, to fall back into line without a single thought.

Her days in the Alliance weren’t better times, but at the very least they were simpler. Just point, shoot, and follow orders. No big thoughts, no nothing really.

Jane’s depressing spiral abruptly ended when her omni-tool pinged. She shifted, clicking a few buttons before her messages came into view. Jane squinted at her mail. It was mostly old contacts and jobs, but the most recent one caught her eye.

**From: Mordin Solus**

**To: Jane Marissa Shepard**

**Shepard, I require your assistance. Specifically need your expertise. Very important matter. Please stop by clinic at earliest convenience.**

Jane stared at the message for a minute and rolled her eyes. What a very ‘Mordin’ message. Straight to the point and very curt. Mordin was lucky Jane cared so much, or else she wouldn’t even entertain the thought of helping. Too much work to be done elsewhere, however, Mordin was the exception.

Jane glanced at the time and stood, wandering towards her dinky looking bathroom to wash up and change. The water was always cold, she couldn’t really afford heat. Thankfully, Jane was already used to the cold. Alliance frigates weren’t that hospitable in regards to menial comforts like good food and showers.

Stealing a glance at the mirror, Jane frowned. She looked tired, the bags under her eyes seemed heavier and her skin paler. She snorted humorlessly before drying her face with a rag.

Dad always joked with her about being so pale, he’d get a hoot out of seeing her now.

Within minutes Jane was out the door and heading towards Kenn’s Salvage.

* * *

 

 “Kenn!” Jane greeted with a grin.

Kenn’s gaze shifted from the datapad on the counter to Jane, smiling at the sight of her.

“Shepard, you’re early. I thought you like your… What do you humans call it. “Beauty Sleep?’”

Jane snorted, slapping Kenn on the shoulder playfully.

“Sure, Kenn. Where did you learn that one from?” Jane asked as she set her stuff down in the back room. She planned on coming back after her visit to the clinic. They usually weren’t long, Mordin was too busy to chat most times.

“Oh, you know. Here and there,” Kenn replied dismissively, his tone lite and broken up with airy laughter.

 _He seems in a good mood_ Jane noted idly while double checking her essentials. She shoved her credit chit and gun in her side pocket and turned towards Kenn as he eyed her curiously.

“Going somewhere?”

Jane nodded. “Yah, shouldn’t be gone long though, Mordin needs me in the clinic for something. I’ll be back.”

Kenn nodded, shuffling back to the counter to continue reading his datapad.

Right when Jane was about to leave, she paused. Turning, Jane jabbed her finger at Kenn and scowled.

“If Harott comes by while I’m gone, make sure you tell him to go fuck off and that I’ll rip his dick off. Got it?”

Kenn blinked at her before nodding rather dumbly. “Sure Shepard,” He replied while blinking owlishly.

Satisfied, Jane smiled and threw the rather dumbstruck Quarian a lazy wave.

* * *

 

“What do you mean I’m not allowed in?!” Jane asked furiously, her voice steadily rising.

The Turian guard standing in front of the ward’s entrance looked at her with disinterest, clearly annoyed that yet another smart mouthed human had decided to pick a fight with him.

“Ah mean you ain’t allowed in. It’s a quarantine lady, or are ye deaf?” The Turian replied, his mandible fluttering in what Jane assumed to be annoyance.   

Fuming, Jane stomped her foot and gestured towards the pistol at her hip. “I’m armed, jackass. A little cough and Blue Suns aren’t going to kill me!”

The Turian looked at her, unamused and frustrated before jabbing his gun at her prosthetic. He barked out a cruel laugh before steeling his features back into a scowl. “What’re you going to do? Hobble around like a drunk pyjack or somethin’? Waving yah gun around like you’se worth shit? Ah got orders from Aria not to let anyone in. So, ah suggest you hobble along, _human._ ”

Jane growled at his last comment, very nearly whipping her gun out on him and his smug face because damn did, he hit a nerve. Fucking Turian and fucking Aria, acting like they’re tough shit. Jane could take care of a few Blue Suns if need be, but this idiot clearly wasn’t going to see reason. She debated bribing in for a moment, but then scowled at the thought. She wasn’t giving the Turian a single credit.

Throwing the Turian the middle finger and hoping its meaning crossed cultural boundaries, Jane spat a venomous, “Fuck you,” before sauntering off.

If the indignant squawk was anything to go by, then he defiantly knew what the finger met. Damn did that feel good. Still, Jane needed a way in, or else there was going to be a very unhappy Mordin somewhere in the wards. Besides, she was incredibly worried. The Turian mentioned humans being immune to the plague, but everyone else seemed like an easy target for the air born, cross species death trap. It sent chills down her spine at the thought of Mordin hacking up blood. That Salarian was to good to die on a hell hole like Omega, if Jane had anything to say about it.

Jane stormed out of the hall leading up to the ward entrance, past the mad prophet who loved jabbing his pruney ass finger in her direction with rage, and towards the market.

_Think Jane, think. What’s a good way to get to the clinic without getting caught? Or shot. Or killed. Or…_

Jane’s thoughts trailed off when she felt a gust of air ruffle her shoulder length ginger locks. She frowned, shoving her fingers into her now messy hair. Glancing around, Jane felt her eyes go wide when she got a sudden but very good idea.

_The vents._

* * *

 

Jane lied; the vents weren’t a good idea. If anything, they were the worst idea she could have possibly conjured up from the depths of her beautifully stupid mind.

Jane hissed in pain for the umpteenth time in the vent when she felt something prick her hand, again. Lifting her palm, Jane cursed as she shook it half hazardously, a bolt flying off and bouncing against the confines of the vent. Omega’s wards were absolutely disgusting and, if the endless number of needles, bolts, and other undesirables were anything to go off of, the vents were even worse.

With a grunt of exertion, Jane flipped on her back, allowing herself to slip down a long trash shoot. She had messaged Kenn earlier to see if he could get her a map of Omega’s venting systems. Luckily, the resourceful little Quarian happened to have one on hand. Why? Jane didn’t bother asking. Kenn scavenged in his spare time so odds where he got the map from some old pile of junk.

Thankfully the map was up to date. If it wasn’t then… Suffice to say Jane would have been chopped to pieces or hopelessly lost by now, rather than sitting in a pile of trash.

“I’m in, Kenn,” Jane said with a groan, cringing when something wet pressed against her side.

Jane hopped out of the trash bin carefully, making sure she didn’t apply to much pressure against her prosthetic. It ached after getting banged against aluminum plating of the vents for the past half hour and Jane wasn’t risking something happening to it while stranded in the wards, alone, with mercs everywhere.

“Alright, Shepard. Good luck, and please be careful.” Kenn replied before the comm line went silent.

Brushing off her cargo pants, Jane took in her surroundings with a grim look. It smelt and looked like hell, no matter where Jane focused her gaze. Dead bodies were staked on top of one another while others lied burned and charred in random fires throughout the room. Disgusting, but practical. Burn the bodies, burn the disease. Regardless, in made Jane’s stomach twist and wretch.

It reminded her of Mindoir, but so did a lot of things. Jane suppressed the rising anxiety in her gut with practiced skill while she readied her pistol. Finger trained on the trigger, Jane pressed herself against a nearby wall and crept along the halls slowly.

Jane knew the ward well enough, so finding the clinic was no problem. She sent off a quick message to Mordin, letting him know she was on her way, before entering the main hall.

Time to put her Alliance training to good use.

**Author's Note:**

> Was feeling inspired, thanks for reading!


End file.
